


Merry and Bright

by siximpossiblethings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Drabble, Ficlet, Gift Giving, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 03:35:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/605395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siximpossiblethings/pseuds/siximpossiblethings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a North Dakota motel room, Castiel questions the Winchester way of celebrating the Holiday season.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merry and Bright

**Author's Note:**

> i wish i had a better explanation for writing a christmas ficlet in the middle of july, but i really don’t. i’ve decided to hop on the bandwagon with the 30 days of writing challenge going around tumblr. this was inspired by the prompt “winter” and while i’m not entirely sure as to what my point is here, i figured i might as well upload it. i tried out a little different style here, at least that’s how i feel, so reviews (even though they’re always appreciated!) will definitely be welcome. this was written from about, 6:30 AM to 8 AM after zero hours of sleep all night so pardon any errors. unbeta’d other than my own readings. enjoy!

The small square window of the motel room is currently iced over, the innocent victim of a cruel and bitter North Dakota winter. Inside the cramped room, a portable radio played out Christmas carols, songs that meant something to some other people in some other place.

“They never let poor Rudolph join in any reindeer games.”

A form in a trench coat stood at that square window, staring out into the white world in front of him. Another man sat on the ratty sofa, sipping cheap beer, an old porn magazine lying face down on the coffee table, obviously thrown there hastily in an attempt to hide whatever had been happening before whoever it was had walked into the room. Sam was out picking up their traditional Yuletide meal of Boston Market. The voice of a news anchor droned on, battling for the room’s little to none acoustics with the radio.

“Is this how humans normally celebrate Christmas?” the voice belonging to the man from the window asked. His brilliant blue eyes were still staring out, as if seeking something, trying to make anything out in the mess of white sloppy snowflakes outside.

The man on the couch turned around, beer still in hand, to answer him. “I’d like to think that a majority of humans aren’t as miserable as we are, wouldn’t you?” He let out a small snort, shaking his head as his green eyes returned to the dull screen.

The song on the radio changed. “A fifty-four convertible, too; light blue.”

“Why do you not do something to celebrate?” The form at the window glanced over his shoulder slightly, eyes full of wonder. So far his experience with Christmas had been children screaming for Barbie’s new dream house and Hot Wheels racetracks, shrill screams filling the mall as a man in a red suit and a gaudy fake beard put on an elastic smile and posed for photographs. His question was answered with a prolonged silence. Had there not been the radio playing or the sports caster now babbling on about Wisconsin’s football scores, the quiet would have become too loud.

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year.”

“Not much worth celebrating, if you ask me,” the man sitting on the couch replied. His fingers ran through his honey colored hair, eyes trained on the television because of defaulted settings rather than pure interest.

Staring back out the window, the man opened his mouth to say something to that, only to find that his tongue was heavy, almost leaden. The taste of the air was semi-tart, the results of one too many smokers falling on one of the beds at night.

“Is it not customary that gifts are exchanged during this season of year?”

“What, you trying to weasel a gift out of me?” Their backs still faced one another, the can of beer bordering on barren.

“That wasn’t my inten--”

“It was a joke, Cas. Don’t get your panties in a twist. Besides,” he said, groaning as he stood up from the couch. “I got you something anyway. It’s not much,” he paused for a moment, moving over to the bed closet to the window in order to shift through a plastic bag from a local store, “but it’s still better than nothing, right?”

“Dean, I didn’t kno--”

“Just take the present, man.” Dean turned around, presenting an unwrapped cardboard box to Castiel, who had since revolved to face his friend. “It’s the least I could do for, uh, you know, saving me and Sammy’s asses and shit.” He held out the box, eyes refusing to meet Cas’s. Instead, he studied the circa 1976 carpet that was covering the beaten up floor.

Castiel gave Dean a searching look before taking the box, rather meekly, but still. He held it for a moment, unsure of what to do next. Wasn’t it common to wait until Christmas Day to open gifts?

“You can open it now, Cas.”

Nodding once, he popped the lid off the box, finding a tie underneath. The shade of blue was familiar, one that could be found hanging around his neck and in his eyes as well. Castiel tilted his head to the side, rubbing the material through his fingers.

Dean cleared his throat, scratching the side of his head before speaking. “I figured you could use a new one. Your old one’s getting kind of ratty.” He smirked, most likely a bit uncomfortable in the situation.

“Thank you,” Cas said, a grin forming on his face. “I’ll be sure to wear it soon, that is as soon as I finally figure out how to put it on properly. I didn’t know if I should have gotten you or Sam a gift, not knowing if that would have bee--”

“Hey Cas?” Dean said, cutting off the angel’s words.

“Yes, Dean?”

“The moment. Don’t ruin it.”

Castiel smiles, disappearing from sight as Dean turns his back to return to the sofa.

“And though it’s been said many times, many ways; Merry Christmas to you.”


End file.
